I am a child from flesh and blood.
I live in the destruction left behind the tanks that came and claimed my parents’ lives.
I am an only child and I wander in the rubble of our house,
Looking for a crumb of bread or perhaps a tomato left under where no one can reach.

I am a child from flesh and blood.
I was born with a sister, whose head, I saw detach from such a heartless force.
I saw my mother’s fingers turn white and stiff after a rusty bullet traveled through her heart.
I gazed at my father eyes as he clinched to my hands, suddenly, they went blank.
I saw the blood from my leg trickle making scarlet puddles on the pure ground.

Children my age play with dolls and plastic makeup, while I play with rocks and memories.
I am, minus my family, considered nothing because…
When someone looks at me they say, “Poor child…”, but would not offer help.
Not because they won’t, but because they can’t.

I am a child from flesh and blood.
My country under occupation is the most valuable possession to me…
“I will never leave you.” I tell my land.
Everything was taken away from me, but nothing will…
Take my Palestinian identity…
Because I am a child from hope and iron.